


culpable

by superstringtheory



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Bonding, Sick Character, Sick Klaus Hargreeves, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 08:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18913393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: "... I heard a rumor that you were quiet."Allison accidentally gives Klaus strep throat.





	culpable

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a fluffy "Klaus gets sick" story, but it turned into an Allison and Diego guiltfest. Enjoy!

“I heard a rumor…  _ that you were quiet _ .” 

 

She doesn’t mean to. It just… slips out, because it’s been a long day and a long life and sometimes Klaus is just  _ too much  _ and oh God. Allison immediately claps her hands over her mouth, horrified. Everyone else turns to Klaus, who’s not paying attention. 

 

“What?” he asks after a beat, and Allison heaves a sigh of relief when his voice is of its normal volume and timbre. No matter how annoying it is, she’s never been more glad to hear it. 

 

And so it’s forgotten. Luther catches her eye and shrugs a huge shoulder. Maybe her powers just work differently now. Only when she really intends them to. That’s not the way it’s been at any point in her life, but who knows. Maybe the blood transfusion tempered her ability a bit. 

 

So Allison relaxes, and doesn’t think about it again until the next morning, when she awakes to find Diego leaning over her. 

 

“Hey, sis,” he says. “I think you should… uh. Well. I think you should just come and see.” 

 

*** 

 

“What, exactly, am I looking at?” As far as Allison can tell, it’s just Klaus sleeping in, as per usual. 

 

“Yo, Klaus.” Diego moves over to the side of Klaus’ bed, where Klaus blinks awake and sits up with a jolt. 

 

“I thought I told you to go away.” Allison stops mid eyebrow raise at the sound of Klaus’ voice, paper-thin and raspy. She watches as Klaus flaps a tired hand in Diego’s direction. Now that she looks more closely, she can see that his hair is sticking to his forehead and his eyes are glassy. 

 

Diego pins her with a glance as if with one of his knives. “Now do you see?” 

 

*** 

 

“Mom thinks he has strep,” Diego says to Allison over the shrill whistle of the teakettle. He lifts the shrieking appliance and pours boiling water over an herbal tea bag. 

 

“ _ Strep _ ? But he was fine last night.” 

 

Diego’s look is pointed, and he clears his throat. “Sure. He was fine. Until…” 

 

Oh. 

 

“So you think  _ I _ did this? Like I wanted to give our brother strep throat?” Allison pulls her hair out of the messy bun she’d thrown it into, tugging at it roughly. 

 

“So, what,” she continues hotly. “It’s not like I rumored Klaus into having strep.” 

 

“No…” Diego lifts the tea bag by its string, then carefully wraps it around a spoon. “But you did rumor him to be quiet.” 

 

“That’s not how it works.” Allison’s arms are crossed over her chest now, and why is she so defensive? It’s not like her ability makes her a Typhoid Mary. That’s not the way it works. It’s always been precise before, always exactly what she said--nothing more, nothing less. It’s a vaccine engineered for a specific strain, not an antibiotic that wipes out any bacteria in the way. There’s never been anything catch-all about it.

 

“You sure about that, after the… accident?” Diego lowers his voice an octave. 

 

Allison’s hands go up to her throat without her even thinking about it. She swallows. 

 

“Um.” 

 

Diego squeezes some honey from a way-too-cheerful looking bear. “That’s what I thought.” He picks the spoon back up and stirs the tea to dissolve the honey. 

 

“So what do we do now?” Allison pulls at one of her errant curls, wrapping it around her index finger. 

 

“Now?” Diego nods at the mug of tea. “Now we make sure Klaus doesn’t self-medicate. Or implode. You know, the usual.” He gives her a quick, tight-lipped smile, and Allison does her best to return it. It feels more like a grimace. 

 

“Sure,” she repeats. “The usual.” 

 

*** 

 

Klaus, as it turns out, is a  _ terrible _ patient-- just not in the way that Allison would’ve expected. If she’d been pressed to hypothesize how her flamboyant brother would react to contracting a severe childhood illness, she’d have presumed him to be overly dramatic, bossing them around like a Southern belle in a heat stroke, luxuriating in their attention. 

 

Instead, Klaus is alarmingly listless. The wind’s completely out of his sails, and he seems to feel too terrible to even ask them for anything. He watches Allison with glimmering eyes until she prickles, feeling all too much like an overtired failure of a mother and sister who didn’t even manage to put on matching socks this morning. 

 

“I like your hair like that,” Klaus notes, and the way his voice scrapes makes Allison feel even worse. “Frames your facial structure well. Gives some good visual... intrigue.” He halfheartedly waves a hand in the air, approximating the mess of her hair, then blanches as he tries to speak again and his voice sputters out. 

 

Diego looks stern. “You should rest your voice. That sounds like it hurts.” 

 

“No shit it hurts.” Klaus winces again, hand hovering around his neck. 

 

Across the room, a pen falls off the desk. Allison and Diego turn to look at the spot, then at Klaus, who’s glaring at a patch of thin air. 

 

“Is Ben here?” Allison tries to look at the same patch of air that Klaus is giving the evil eye, but when she looks back at Klaus to check, he has his eyes closed. 

 

“Ben?” Diego peers around the room too, but as he can’t see or hear their ghostly sibling either, it’s for naught. 

 

Klaus cracks an eye open as if it’s taking all of his effort. 

 

“He’s being an  _ asshole _ .” His voice cracks on the last word and he grimaces. “Jesus  _ Christ _ , that hurts. Wow.” 

 

Diego’s face creases in concern, and Allison can almost feel her motherly instincts kicking in. She may not have custody of her daughter, but she definitely knows how to make a sick kid feel better. Sure, Klaus isn’t a kid anymore, but he’s sick and it’s her fault, so she should do something to help. 

 

“Here,” she says, decisive. “Drink the tea, and I’ll see what I can do about getting you some medicine.” 

 

“Nothing with codeine,” Diego says, jabbing his pointer finger at Klaus. “Just regular old ibuprofen for you.” 

 

Klaus sighs, a wisp of the sound it normally is. “You two are my least fun siblings.” 

 

“Me?” Diego snorts. “Less fun than  _ Luther _ ?” 

 

“Shh,” Allison murmurs. “He’s delirious.” 

 

“Am not,” Klaus says, but there’s no heat in it. “And I’d know.” 

 

“... I suppose you would,” Allison says after a pause. She and Diego suddenly can’t look at Klaus or each other, neither of them ready to reminisce about how they didn’t realize Klaus had been kidnapped, leading to his torture and unpleasant sudden detox. 

 

The spoon clinks against the side of the mug of tea then, and they all startle. 

 

“Ugh, Ben.” Klaus rolls his eyes, but leans down to pick up the mug. “Stop  _ mothering _ me. I’m  _ fine _ .” 

 

Except he’s not, really. His voice is at about half power, and rapidly fading. He looks exhausted, facial bones prominent. Allison watches him cringe after drinking the tea, and she moves towards the bed to take the empty mug from him. 

 

“Ugh,” Klaus repeats. From up close, he appears more feverish, and Allison can’t help but set the mug back on the floor so she can use both hands to feel his forehead and neck. 

 

“ _ Klaus _ ,” she admonishes as she roves her hands across his face. “You’re way too warm. Diego, come feel this.” 

 

“Oh, yes, everyone come and feel Klaus’ face,” Klaus says, wincing. 

 

“Shit,” Diego says. “I’m going to go get Mom.” 

 

“Goody,” says Klaus. “Can you see if she has any codeine?” 

 

***

 

Mom frowns as she takes Klaus’ temperature with an old-fashioned mercury thermometer. When they were little, she could calculate their temperatures to a hundredth of a degree with her hand, but ever since Pogo’s tinkering, she’s been having trouble with some of her sensors. 

 

Allison goes to find some medicine while Klaus dutifully holds the thermometer under his tongue. In the infirmary, she unearths a bottle of ibuprofen that looks like it was manufactured in this decade. She makes a mental note to run out to the drugstore as soon as possible. 

 

“One-oh-two point five,” Mom reads out, and Diego makes a face. 

 

As Allison comes back into the room, Mom is swabbing Klaus’ throat. He gags as she finishes and shoots her a vitriolic look. 

 

“I’ll be back with the strep test in a jiffy,” Mom tells them, and leaves. 

 

“Drugs?” Klaus says hopefully, in that same raspy whisper. 

 

Allison gives him some of the ibuprofen and a cup of water. 

 

Klaus looks nonplussed. “Is this it?”

 

“It’s all we have,” Allison explains, and raises an eyebrow at him until he swallows the pills with a grimace. 

 

The three (well, three-ish, if Allison’s right and Ben is still hanging around) of them are silent for a few minutes. Diego leans up against the wall and Allison seats herself at the desk. Klaus shivers and tucks both of his arms under the blanket like a little bird. 

 

When Mom reappears, she breaks the spell. 

 

“Your strep test was positive, Klaus,” Mom lets them know matter-of-factly. “I recommend bed rest and liquids, along with a regimen of antibiotics.” 

 

Klaus just blinks up at her, and Allison’s heart squeezes. He clearly has no idea how to allow himself to be sick and cared for. She doesn’t want to think about why that might be, or how it could be partly her fault. 

 

“I’ll go to the pharmacy,” Allison blurts out before she can say anything more dangerous. “Is there anything else you want, Klaus?” 

 

*** 

 

Klaus hadn’t been forthcoming about which flavors of popsicle and ice cream he’d prefer, so Allison makes her own judgments about Ben & Jerry’s. She also picks up Klaus’ prescription and some over the counter cold medicine. When she returns home, she sticks most of the ice cream in the freezer, but leaves a container out to bring to Klaus when she goes up to drop off his medicine. 

 

Snagging a spoon from the cutlery drawer, Allison balances the medicine on top of the tub of Cherry Garcia and heads upstairs. 

 

Klaus is alone in the room, at least as far as she can tell. He has a damp washcloth draped over his forehead, and he gives her a lopsided smile as she comes in. 

 

Klaus points to the washcloth. “Diego,” he stage-whispers, and Allison has to bite her lip, not sure if she wants to cry or laugh. 

 

Allison drags the desk chair over by the bed and sets the ice cream and medicine down on the nightstand. 

 

“Here,” she says, holding out the spoon. “Eat something, you’re too skinny as it is.” 

 

“Offensive,” Klaus says hoarsely, but he takes it and opens the container. “Mmm. That feels good on my throat.” The washcloth slips down over his eye and Allison reaches out and fixes it before she can stop herself. 

 

“Hey…” Klaus begins, then stops to rub his throat. He starts again. 

 

“Why are you doing all this for me? I mean, clearly Diego has some kind of caretaking complex, and don’t even get me started on  _ Ben _ ”-- Klaus breaks off to clear his throat painfully and to take a long drink of water, but not before throwing a long glare at a patch of air in the corner-- “but you... I’ve never pegged you for a Nurse Nellie type.” He laughs, and the sound is horrible, scratching and raspy. “Huh. Pegged.” 

 

Allison sighs. “Just rest your voice, Klaus.” But she can’t make eye contact with him. 

 

Because this is why she rumors people, isn’t it? So they don’t get too close to knowing the real her, to seeing just how ordinary she is, beneath the designer clothes and $300 haircut. 

 

Underneath it all, Allison is a liar. And a selfish one at that. 

 

Why else would she have wished strep throat on her brother? 

 

*** 

 

“Hey.” 

 

Allison starts in the desk chair. Diego has his hand on her shoulder. Klaus is asleep, the washcloth draped sideways over his chin. The remnants of the Ben & Jerry’s pint is melting in the container. 

 

“I got him some soup from that deli he likes,” Diego tells her in a whisper, as if this weren’t her fault and they were just good siblings taking care of their sick brother. 

 

“That’s good,” Allison says after a pause that feels too long. “Really good.” She picks at her nail polish (an original Urban Decay color unearthed from her childhood bedroom). 

 

“This isn’t your fault,” Diego tells her, gesturing at Klaus. “Kid’s always had a shitty immune system.” 

 

“Yeah. Sure.” Allison doesn’t look at him. It’s funny how she doesn’t react to Diego calling Klaus “kid”-- they’re all the same age (well, not counting Five), but something about Klaus always made her want to mother him. Until Ben died and everything went to shit and Allison ran off to be a movie star. No regards to any of her siblings. Not even a postcard, from the myriad of on-location locations she’d been to. 

 

“No, really.” Diego sighs. “Look. Don’t tell Luther, but”-- he glances guiltily over his shoulder, as if Luther could ever sneak up on them-- “I let Klaus come with me to do some investigating the other day.” 

 

“And?” Allison prompts, sitting up a little straighter. 

 

Diego takes a moment to lean over Klaus and remove the washcloth. He lays a hand on Klaus’ forehead for a few seconds, and Klaus stirs but doesn’t wake up. 

 

“Still warm,” Diego says. “But better than before.” 

 

“You didn’t answer my question.” Allison pins him with a look of her own, and she’s proud that she’s probably one of the few people in the world who can do that. 

 

“Sure,” Diego nods. “Yeah. Like I said, Klaus came with me to do some investigating.”

 

He doesn’t react to Allison’s raised eyebrow, just keeps going. 

 

“And this… investigating… was in a free clinic. And I had to kind of… leave Klaus hanging out in the reception area for a while. You know, with all the sick people.” 

 

It’s starting to dawn on Allison that maybe she’s not as culpable as she’s been making herself out to be in her mind. 

 

Diego’s still talking. 

 

“So… I guess… it’s my fault, really.” 

 

“You’re such a martyr,” Allison tells him magnanimously, especially for a person who’d up until this very moment been convinced of her own responsibility in this issue. “We don’t know that that’s what made Klaus sick. It still could’ve been my rumor. Or just… Klaus having a shitty immune system, just like he’s always had.” 

 

Diego’s silent for a bit, and Allison thinks he’s probably remembering that winter break where Klaus had pneumonia and spent the better part of December coughing in bed. 

 

“True,” Diego decides. “But I still want to help him feel better. And it’s not because I feel  _ guilty _ .” He almost spits the last word, and Allison strangely feels like they’ve at least made some progress. 

 

Maybe someday they’ll all talk about how they left and never sought one another out, how Klaus was spiraling in on himself even before Ben died and how none of them thought sorting that out was worth staying for. 

 

Now isn’t the time for that discussion, though. Now’s the time for soup and medicine and perhaps some old movies on that little portable television that must still be around here somewhere. 

 

***

 

Allison gets the medicine and queues up the right channel while Diego gets a bowl for the soup. Klaus stirs at the noise and movement and cracks an eye open at them. 

 

“You guys are the best,” he murmurs, still half-asleep, and Allison hasn’t felt this kind of home in a long, long time. 

  
  


***** 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at superstringtheory.tumblr.com. I'm a sucker for sickfic.


End file.
